


Joker x Reader - Whiskey Courage

by TheJokersEnigma



Category: DCU
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, Joker - Freeform, Smutty?, Tumblr, Tumblr request, irish reader, joker x reader - Freeform, supposedly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 18:29:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13576431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJokersEnigma/pseuds/TheJokersEnigma
Summary: So this was yet another request I got on tumblr:‘Could ya do a fic about the joker falling in love with an Irish girl Fluffy/smut’So, I was going to do this as a oneshot, but I guess I was on a bit of a roll - or just rambled a lot - because it’s now over 5000 words long, so I thought I’d split it up a bit!I wasn't sure how to make the reader irish, so I just sort of hinted at it a bit....





	1. Part 1

“So… you’re the doll that got the clean-up duty, hmm?”

“S-sir?” You stuttered out, quickly scrambling to your feet from where you had been scrubbing away at a bit of blood that seemed ingrained in the carpet. You hadn’t heard the man’s footsteps in the corridor outside and was caught completely unaware when he suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Your eyes nervously scanned the Joker up and down where he stood. He was dressed in what he usual wore when his day was full of meetings in his penthouse office – a loosely fitted shirt – today in a deep red – the sleeve rolled up to just above his elbows, and a pair of smart black trousers.

He looked immaculate. The only sign of the chaos he had been involved in only about fifteen minutes ago, was a few specks of red on his forearms that stood out stark against his pale skin.

“I’d give up with that stain if I was you,” The Joker grinned widely, eyes dropping to the damp patch on the carpet. “Frosty’s been trying to get it out all year.” He said, now sweeping past where you stood, walking much closer to you than necessary, and heading for his desk. He threw himself down onto his office chair, kicking his feet up on his desk, eyes turning on you once again.

When your eyes met you dropped your gaze and crouched back down to the floor, doing as the man had said and ignoring the stubborn stain, instead turning your efforts on a different dark crusty red patch. You slopped from the bucket next to you onto the thick carpet, the scent of bleach hitting your nose as you scrubbed furiously, trying to ignore the feeling of the eyes on the back of your head.

The knees of your jeans dampened as you shifted closer to where you were scrubbing, having knelt in some of your previous work. You cursed the patches of soapy water that would now be obvious over your knees and take at least an hour to dry. Why had you worn jeans? You knew you were so often set to cleaning, and you knew how likely you were to, at the very least, splash yourself.

You hadn’t, however, thought you would be set to cleaning up what was likely to be pieces of someone’s innards off the floor.

You tried not to think about it too much and were just glad that the smell was over powder by the bleach.

You shouldn’t even be here. Your shift had finished about half an hour ago, but you hadn’t made your get away quick enough, choosing to linger in the kitchen to chatter with Hannah. That meant, when Frost strode into the kitchen seeking out a victim, his attention fell on the two of you. Hannah had quickly turned back to where she had been prepping food - looking busy even though she was only waiting for the oven timer to go off – and you had been caught unavailable for Frost to point his finger at, assigning you the unpleasant job.

You had tried to appeal against it – pointing out that your shift was in fact over - but Frost had no other choice, the girl who was supposed to take over your shift once again late, and no one else was available.

You had cursed silently to yourself but knew there was no use. You just hoped you got paid the extra couple of hours this was going to take, and the other girl got some sort of punishment for her tardiness.

From what you could gather, the Joker had been in a business meeting about an hour ago. Halfway through things had apparently taken a turn for the worse – maybe they had failed him in some way – though you doubted the meeting would have even lasted that long if that had been true - maybe they had said something to annoy him, or maybe the Joker had just got bored.

Either way, a few shouts and gunshots later and here you were, just thankful that the bodies had already been removed by some of the Joker’s men.

You paused in your actions for a moment, allowing your aching arm to rest, slightly out of breath from the vigorous movements.

“Are you new, doll?” You snapped your head up to where the Joker was still watching you from the advantage of his desk a couple of metres away.

“No, sir.” You answered, continuing on with your work, hoping if you looked busy he would stop talking to you.

“I know all the girls that work for me, kitten,” He hummed - something in his voice telling you he meant more than just on a first name basis. “so why haven’t I seen you before?” He continued.

You kept your head down on. “I work the night shift, sir.” You told the floor, “I believe you are usually otherwise occupied from the penthouse.”

Please let that be it the conversation over now, you prayed. Your hours usually meant you never saw the crime lord - the nights usually when he was out on heists, or even just at one of his many business - and you weren’t at all comfortable in a room alone with him, especially with all his attention on you.

Didn’t he come in here for a reason? Wasn’t he supposed to be working or something? Why did he care if you were new or not? And why was he constantly watching you?

“I think you have your timings wrong then, kitten.” The Joker pointed out, raising his eyebrows. “Unless I’m as crazy as they all say, I don’t believe it is night time.”

“No, sir.” You agreed, still working at the floor, though you were sure you had removed the stain by now. “I was working over time.”

“’Was’, doll?” He questioned, not missing your use of the word.

“My shift ended half an hour ago.” You confessed, shifting to another patch of carpet where you thought you could see a mark – though you had been staring at the fibres so long now, it was all starting to look marked.

“And you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to scrub the floor, hmm?”

You bowed your head further as you bit back a smirk. You must remain professional. “Frost assigned me the job after the girl that usually replaces me did not show on time.” You explained, still not looking up.

The Joker fell into silence and you hoped he was finally going to leave you alone to do your job, hopefully even vacate the room.

“And why is it that you need the money?”

You closed your eyes in exasperation at his persistence to talk with you. “My apologise, sir, but why does anyone need money?” You asked in a way of explanation.

“Don’t try to be clever, kitten.” He purred darkly behind you, warning that you were pushing your luck with that break or your usually tightly controlled attitude. You bit your lip to hold yourself in check. “But, did I hear a bit of an Irish brogue just then?” The Joker mused and you felt yourself stiffen. “Are you one of those cailíns?”

“In that you have just called me a girl, sir, I suppose I am.” You told him stiffly, immediately regretting yet another lapse of your self-control. You kept most of your attention on your scrubbing brush, hoping you hadn’t completely stepped over the line this time. You tried to keep your accent under control – especially when you were working – but you had heard the slight twang to your words when you’d let your attitude slip, and then again just then.

“Fiery as would be expected.” The Joker said, the grin evident in his voice even though your back was to him now.

You rolled your eyes. You were relieved that he didn’t seem annoyed by your ‘fieriness’, but now, it seemed the clownish man was going to be spitting Irish stereotypes at you.

How much more was there to clean?

You remained silent, hoping lack of reaction might discourage him.

However, when the Joker also didn’t say anything more, you felt yourself beginning to become even more nervous.

Maybe that was enough cleaning for now - the worst of it was gone anyway - let the next girl deal with the rest of it, you’d already done an eight-hour shift and were more than ready for a lie down.

You got up to your feet, scrubbing brush still in hand, and grab for your bucket as you straightened up.

“Leaving so soon, doll?” The Joker’s voice rang out directly behind you. 

“Yes, sir.” You said to the floor, not giving into his baiting. You turned to finally face him full on, aware, your hair was probably messy and tangled, your knees still damp, and your face looking worn and tired. Compared to the Adonis-like man that the Joker was you with his smart clothes, marble skin and chiselled features, you must look like a pile of rags. “It is nearly an hour since I am contracted to have finished. I would like to finally take my leave.”

“Understandable.” He nodded, seeming oddly reasonable for what you had heard of the man.

“Thank you, sir.” You mumbled. You weren’t sure why you thanked him - surely it was your right to leave now? – but you felt you ought to nonetheless.

You gave him a nod in farewell and departed, looking forward to your bed, but now also thinking how you might try harder in the rest of your shifts to at least try catching another glimpse of the Joker again.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

You were back within six hours.

It was your usual shift and it shouldn’t be too bad – the perks of the night shift being that there might be a few hours of scheduled work, but after that you would be required to simply hang around on the off chance you were needed. In the nine months you had been working here, you had never been required as the Joker and his men spent every night out doing one thing of another. The only exception was the occasional clumsy first aid you were forced to rig up on a few men that were sent back.

Tonight, would be a long night though, even if it wasn’t busy, and your nap was already feeling far too long ago.

But you needed the money.

That’s why you had taken this job, despite finding out who it would be for. It was good money. Really good money, especially for a job you felt you were already basically doing for free for your family. Being a maid wasn’t a job with the highest prestige, but it required you to have no specific qualifications – which you didn’t have – and, thanks to the difficult boss, paid better than any other job you could realistically apply for.

For a while, your night shift of six days a week had covered most of your living costs and allowed you to send some savings off to your parents. But now, your older brother was homeless and jobless again, your younger brother gone AWOL, and your older sister about to be put on trial for a number of poor life decisions. Your parent’s already pretty low funds were now dwindling even more as most of their money went towards bailing out your siblings, This, coupled with the stress of it all, left your aging mum and dad in a pretty bad way – and still did not manage to cover the expenses your brothers and sister had racked up.

This left it up you to find a way to bring in more earnings.

So, you started working multiple shifts. This meant you never had a full day off and were often on your feet for over sixteen hours a day, but also that you were able to support your parents whilst they dealt with the rest of your family.

You just hoped the money problems would be solved before you burned out and collapsed.

You dropped your bags into the ‘staff room’ which was simply a room that the Joker’s men used to take their breaks - gambling or drinking between jobs – but it had a small cupboard in the back of the room where you could throw your personal belongings. The room was predictably empty, and you shrugged off your coat as you headed for the cupboard, hanging this and your bad on a hook on the back of the door, ignoring the pile of broken hoovers and dustpans without their brushes that lay in the depths.

Your usual evening tasks were simple, and you set to work on them straight away - though hardly rushing them when you knew you had all night.

Your first stop was the kitchen, checking for any signs that had been left of the dinner service hours earlier. The place was pretty much spotless though, and you sent a silent thanks to Hannah for that, the only thing needing your attention were the traces of where the Joker’s men had made themselves some supper.

You cleared the bread crumbs and a few butter knives away, then continued your room surveys, traveling from one to another, straightening out the odd pillow, refilling whiskey decanters and closing curtains against the night outside. You knew the latter was a pointless exercise – knowing you’d just have open them again before you left - but you did it anyway.

The next room was the Joker’s office. You almost hesitated before opening the door, having the odd urge to knock even though you knew there wouldn’t be anyone in, and unable to stop yourself remembering the last time you had seen him, lounging in his chair with his icy eyes on you.

You pushed this thought aside and pushed the door open anyway, flicking the light switch on your right.

The light illuminated the exact same room you had been in earlier that day with its dark furniture and thick carpet, the faint trace of cleaning products still hanging in the air, now mingling with the room’s usual scent of wood polish, smoke and a cologne-like aroma.

Somewhere in the room, a clock chimed midnight, breaking the echoy silence and making you startle as you tread across the room. Your heart soon settled again as you continued on with your work, tugging the curtains closed and running a cloth over the large desk and then over the long meeting table.

You shifted the office chair, so it was completely straight, then scanned your eyes over the room, checking for anything else that needed your attention.

On the opposite wall, you noticed an out of place glass sat on the sideboard next to what looked like an old fashion record player. You strode over to it, grabbing the glass, noting the trace of the alcohol still pooling in the bottom, and then cast a curious look over the archaic sound system.

You honestly didn’t remember seeing it in the room before, but then you could easily have overlooked something like this - especially with the lid closed, as it would have just looked like a wooden box. The only reason it had caught your eye now, you thought, was because someone had left it open, revealing the vinyl disc still inside.

You were sure your family used to have a similar record player, recalling it from dim childhood memories, but you couldn’t remember ever hearing it played.

Now, alone in the penthouse, with a similar device right in front of you, disc already in place, you had an overwhelming urge to hear the music - intrigued what the Joker could possibly listen to.

Surely you couldn’t be punished for wanting to listen to a bit of music whilst you worked? It wasn’t like there was anyone around to disturb anyway.

You studied the box again, not sure you knew exactly how it worked, but knowing the general gist. You soon found what looked to be an ‘on’ button, and then you lifted the needle into place on the already-in-place record.

There was a pause of silence and you wondered if you’d done it wrong, but then the music abruptly started. It was louder then you thought it would be - your ears having acclimatised to the silence of the large empty penthouse – and far more energetic and upbeat that you had expected, sounding like some sort of old fashion swing jazz compilation.

You stood by the music player for a bit, watching the record revolve and listening intently to the different instruments, until you remembered yourself and grudgingly returned back to work. The music definitely helped to make your work more bearable though, finding the upbeat tune giving you new energy, your foot often tapping along as you ran your cloth over the fireplace or straightened out the chairs around the long table.

You had found yourself lost in your own little world of swing and cleaning, but you were brought sharply down to earth when the record gave out a harsh scratching sound and the music was brought to an abrupt stop.

Your head immediately snapped up from where you had been adjusting a chair.

You didn’t believe it.

Next to the record player, holding the needle aloft in his pale fingers whilst the vinyl still span beneath, the Joker stood with his eyes on you.

“Hello again, doll.” He growled from across the room. “Fancied some music, hmm?”


	2. Part 2

You couldn’t say anything, still frozen in surprise at the Joker’s sudden appearance, and trying to work out from his sickly-sweet tone how much trouble you were in. Why was he even here? You thought you heard Frost talking about a local bank job tonight. Why wasn’t he there? Had it been cancelled for some reason? But then, where were the rest of his men?

The Joker had now placed the needle down and was swapping the record for another. He then replaced the needle back into the edge of the vinyl disc and a new song began to play. This one had a completely different tone from the previous swing jazz track. This was slower, deeper, blues-like music. It had a certain sexiness to it.

You dispelled that thought immediately, bringing your attention back to the Joker again. He was dressed the same as earlier – unsurprisingly - though his green hair looked slightly more unruly than usual, like he had been running his hands through it a lot.

“Couldn’t stay away, kitten?” He grinned, raising his eyebrows in question.

You tried to gather yourself together. “It’s – It’s my shift, sir.” You said stupidly, though making sure not to forget your formalities.

“Ah, yes… night time…” He recalled, nodding with a smirk. You didn’t say anything, just watched the Joker as he now moving slowly over to his desk, swinging his legs carelessly. “Tell me, kitten…” He purred in thought. “When does your shift finish?”

“Uh – seven, sir.” You answered.

He glanced over at you. ‘Seven’ he mouthed at you with wide eyes. “Phff,” He let out in a puff of air, “That’s tough, dolly.” He admitted, “And, when does your next shift start?” He asked, looking down at something on his desk, running a hand over it.

“Twelve.”

“Midday?” He asked, his eyes glancing up for confirmation.

You nodded. His eyes dropped again, and he shook his head slowly from side to side. You thought you heard him mutter something like ‘five hours’, but you couldn’t be sure from this distance.

The Joker suddenly straightened up again, forgetting whatever he had been studying, and now making his way to the sideboard behind you that held a variety of alcohols.

“Any days off, doll?” He asked, not looking at you, his focus on picking out one of the many bottles.

You had spun around to follow his movements across the room. “No, sir.” You mumbled.

He waved a hand at you, gesturing you over as he finally decided on a bottle, then reaching for one of the glasses.

You warily stepped towards him, ensuring you kept a distance between the two of you by pausing a few feet away. When you didn’t come any closer, the Joker glanced back at you in annoyance before closing the space, bottle in one hand, and grabbing for your wrist that still held the used glass you had picked up earlier. His cold touch made you flinch in surprise, but he didn’t seem to notice, lifting your arm up and pouring a generous serving of the amber liquid into the glass in your hand.

Without releasing you, the Joker reached back to the sideboard and poured the same into the other glass before placing the bottle down, picking up the glass and swapping it for the one in your hand. His fingers brushing yours felt oddly intimate and his touch on your wrist now felt scolding hot despite his cool skin.

“Have a seat, doll.” He ordered. Your eyes followed where he now gestured, bewildered as to what was going on and surprised to find he was pointing at his desk.

“Sir, I really think I ought to get back to –“ You started, glancing back to the Joker nervously, but the criminal just widened his eyes at you, daring you to decline the offer. You shut your mouth then, not questioning it any further and instead slowly moving towards the desk, expecting any moment for the Joker to lash out at you for misunderstanding his orders. But he remained silent, his eyes on your back as you approached the large wingback office chair, the blues-like music still playing from the record machine.

You glanced back at the Joker one last time - only just stopping yourself from flinching when you noticed he was only a couple of foot away, having not realised he had even been following you – before you gingerly perched on the edge of the seat.

The Joker arched an eyebrow at you and you got the message, shuffling deeper into the chair until you were pressed upright against the backrest.

You were glad that the Joker seemed to find you amusing rather than irritating and watched anxiously as he now moved in front of you, pushing himself agilely onto the desk and crossing his legs like a child. 

“Cheers, kitten.” He toasted, leaning down to clink the glass you held numbly in your hands before he then proceeded to toss back the whole thing. 

You hesitated - still completely bewildered by what was going on and not sure what you were expected to do – but then the Joker caught your eye and you took a cautious sip from the drink.

He laughed at the face you made as the strong alcohol stung your throat. “Oh, come on, doll, you’re Irish - surely you can do better than that?” He grinned, his eyes alive and dazzling.

You let a scowl flicker across your face, but you knew the Joker was unlikely to let it go, so, against your better judgement, you tilted your head back and swallowed the rest of the glass. You coughed slightly at the repeated burn in your throat and felt the warmth settle in your stomach.

The Joker grinned at your obedience, then reached back and you realised he had brought the bottle with him, soon refilling his glass, then going to do the same to yours.

“Oh – uh - no thank you.” You said quickly, moving the glass away from him, hugging it in towards your body. “Sir.” You added, remembering yourself. “I shouldn’t.” You shouldn’t even have had the first one, but you were kind of glad you had – the warmth of the alcohol having renewed your energy somewhat - if only for a moment.

“There are lots of things you shouldn’t do, kitten.” The Joker purred suggestively, not taking no for an answer and leaning down towards you with the bottle. “And by the look of ya, you need something to keep you on your feet.” You were suddenly aware of how he seemed to tower over from his position on the desk and you could feel your body reacting to his close proximity.

He was right though, already the numbing effect of the drink was wearing off and you wanted nothing more than to relax back into the chair and close your eyes.

“I should actually be getting back to work.” You said quickly, avoiding the bottle again and hastily leaning forward to put the glass on the desk before you got up - not factoring in that this would bring your face dangerously close to the Joker who was already leaning in to you. You felt your hair brush against his cheek and you immediately reeled back, releasing the glass - luckily having been close enough to the desk for it to land safely.

“Excuse me.” You mumbled, your face bright red and now moving to flee from the chair.

Suddenly the Joker’s feet were on either side of you on the chair, creating a barrier with his legs so you were trapped, the only way to escape now was to awkwardly duck under them.

“No apology necessary, kitten.” He grinned down at you. “But what’s the rush?”

You had frozen at his sudden movement to stop you and your eyes now flashed up to his, seeing the mischievous twinkle in his eye, then dropped back to your lap again. “I – uh – have my job to complete, sir.” You stuttered out.

“Not tonight, dolly.” He tutted at you, shaking his head. “You’re taking a night off - on the condition you spend it with me.” He added, and you felt yourself stiffen, your cheeks burning red.

“No. Sir, I can’t – I –“ You stuttered, searching for a coherent thought in your panicky mind.

“I’m not forcing you to sleep with me, doll.” He said, having seen where your mind had immediately gone. “Just entertain me.” He with a shrug as if it was simple.

“Sir, I’m not sure I understand.” You mumbled, glancing up at him, confused what he was asking.

He leant back, running a hand through his hair, a few strands falling over his face as they escaped through his fingers. “Drop the sir, kitten, it’s like nail on chalk in my head.” He growled, his face contorting into a painful grimace. You nodded numbly, not sure what else to do. The Joker then reached for the bottle of whiskey again, pouring another serving into your glass sat by his thigh, then pouring the same into his once again. “And you can have another drink.” He said insisted, handing your glass back to you.

You took it warily, staring down into the contents. What was happening right now? Were you actually taking the night off – with the Joker?

“Doll.” You snapped your head up once more. “Relax.” The Joker growled, and, despite the roughness in his voice, the request was almost gently.

You swallowed apprehensively, then tossed back the drink again. The Joker grinned at your action, copying it with his own drink.

You felt the buzz of yet another shot of strong whiskey burn through your system, your whole body feeling almost lighter now. The Joker continued to ply you with drinks, some of which you sipped at, others which you threw back.

The conversation between the two of you started off stunted and awkward, but as the drinks continued you found yourself slowly relaxing more and opening up, your answers becoming more detailed as the Joker continued to ask you questions about your life - apparently this was what he meant by you ‘entertaining him’.

You had now long forgotten about your job, long stopped worrying if you were somehow being paid to sit and chat with the criminal, long stopped caring that your accent was plain and clear and your attitude barely curbed, your mind was happily burying these worries under a carefree alcoholic cloud. You felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. 

Up to that point, it had mainly been the Joker asking you questions, but now you decided to turn the table.

“Can I ask why you here?” You said, making the most of a pause in his questioning. Your head had begun to feel rather heavy and you rested it on the wing of the chair, eyeing the Joker curiously.

“Now that is a very long story, doll.” He grinned, purposely misunderstanding you.

“No, nah, no.” You slurred, shaking your head heavily, making the world fall out of focus for a moment. “Why are you sat here – with me?” You asked, waving a hand at where he sat, now cross legged again, on the desk.

The Joker seemed amused at the extend of your drunkenness, clearly pleased that his attempt to relax you was working. He doubted you would remember much of this in the morning. “Well, kitten.” The Joker purred gently, sounding as though he was trying to explain something to a four-year-old, “it’s quite simple really,” He hummed, leaning down closer to you. “You told me you worked nights and I wanted to see you again.”

You felt your eyes widen. “You wanted to see me?” You repeated, unconsciously leaning in towards him, your foggy mind not able to comprehend his words.

“Erhmm.” He nodded, his eyes never leaving you, his face now incredibly close.

“Stop it!” You cried with a giggle, reeling backwards and throwing your arm out to either push at him – though he was now too far away – or to shield yourself from him.

“Stop what, kitten?” He grinned devilishly, enjoying the sound of your laughter.

“Stop staring at me like that!”

“Like what?” He pressed teasingly.

“Like – like-“ You stuttered for words.

“’Like, like’” He mimicked you, leaning even closer, “Like what, doll?” He breathed, his eyes melting from their icy shade into pools of a deeper blue. You hadn’t realised you had leaned forward again until his felt the light tickle of his breath fanning across your face making you shiver despite its warmth.

Like you want me, you wanted to say, your lips parting in anticipation, but, even in your drunk mind, something held you back from saying it.

The Joker watched you, his face inches from yours, waiting for an answer, the wicked gleam in his eye telling you he already knew what you were thinking. He suddenly pulled away, sitting back upright once again and somehow leaving you feeling oddly empty and alone, despite how close you still sat.

You followed suit, sitting back again, leaning your head once more on the side of the chair and studying the Joker with a frown.

Did he want you?

Possibly - you had heard from numerous other girls how’d he occasional take a fancy to one of them for a night.

Was that what this was?

Was he trying to make you drunk to make you more agreeable? Did he realise he didn’t need to do that? - That you couldn’t seem to help yourself fantasising about him, drunk or not?

But you’d never let it happen. No. Even if you wanted to - you couldn’t. Sex meant more to you than just pleasure. You didn’t – couldn’t - do one-night stands - especially with your boss - and you certainly didn’t want to be just one in a long line of girls.

You were sobering up pretty quickly now at these thoughts and - with it - your exhaustion was hitting you hard. Even now you could feel the heaviness of your eyelids weighing on you, the warm glow of the room’s lighting not helping.

“I think I ought to be heading home.” You muttered, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you and pushing yourself to your feet. You had spent the night with him, surely you could leave? You hesitated for a second once you were up, allowing your head to settle before you stepped forward. You headed for the door in a determinedly straight line, though with every step there seemed to be a lag between the thought from your mind and the movement of your muscles.

Suddenly a cold hand wrapped around your forearm, the resistance yanking you backwards and pulling you off your already shaky balance, causing you to stumble and then fall rather ungracefully over the desk and half land in the Joker’s lap.

The Joker grinned down at you, the realisation of your position was slow to enter your fogged brain, but, when it did, you hastily attempted to push yourself back upright again. The Joker, however, had at some point moved his arms to wrap around your torso, now pinning you to his chest and making it impossible for you to put any space between the two of you.

You squirmed weakly in his grip, cursing your slow, intoxicated mind and trying to fight the effects of the alcohol, but the Joker’s hold only tightened.

“Don’t hurt yourself, doll.” He hummed, and you fell limp, knowing it was hopeless cause. “Do you see how easy it was for me to do that, kitten?” He questioned gently, and you felt like a small, vulnerable child in his arms. He waited for a response and you gave a tiny nod, the back of your head rubbing against his chest. “You see then, why I am hesitant to let you wander home alone at 3am?” You nodded again. “Good.” He praised. “Now, I’m going to let you go.” He muttered, “And you are going to sit back down.” He ordered, a slight growl to his words that warned you against disobeying.

You swallowed nervously and nodded once more. The Joker’s grip on you slacken, but he didn’t remove his arms from around you, forcing you to make the move and pull away from him.

You did as you were told and sat back down on the desk chair again.

“Now, you have two options, doll. We can stay here and keep talking, or we can go to bed.” The Joker offered you, his eyes keen on you for any flicker of your thought process.

The latter option of ‘bed’ sounded the best and most obvious decision, but the ‘we’ part of it made you falter. It both thrilled and scared you.

No. That wasn’t an option.

“Talk.” You mumbled, trying to fight your fatigue.

The Joker eyed you suspiciously, blatantly aware of how exhausted you clearly were. “Fine.” He said, calling your bluff, “Have another drink.” He poured you yet another glass and handed it back to you. You barely registered taking the glass, mechanically sipping at it and startled when you found it was in fact water. You took a larger gulp and the Joker continued his earlier tirade of question.

You were less open now, partly from your sobered mind, but partly because you were just too tired to answer with more than a few words.

When it got to the stage that you were closing your eyes between responses to stave off the ache in your lids, the Joker had finally had enough. “You’re to bed, doll.” He stated matter-of-factly.

Your eyes barely even flickered at this, and you weren’t even sure you were completely conscious - you could have been dreaming this for all you knew.

“I’ll get my stuff.” You mumbled and - in your mind - you were getting to your feet, but instead you remained slumped in the chair, making a pathetic attempt to push yourself upright.

“I’d say not so fast, doll, but I don’t think you’re going anywhere in a hurry.” The Joker grinned teasingly, watching you with crossed arms and making no attempt to stop you.

You mumbled something incoherent to this and the next thing you knew you were in the Joker’s arms, and then being light jolted as you were set on a soft mattress.

The sudden comprehension of what was going on shot you awake.

“No.” You cried out like you had awoken from a bad dream, flailing your limbs wildly as you tried to scramble out of the bed. Strong hands gripped your wrists pinning them down by your head and, when you then tried to kick out with your legs, you felt a heavy weight on your thighs stopping them too.

“No, no, no…” You whimpered, scrunching your eyes closed, helpless under the weight of the Joker who was restraining you against the mattress.

“Shh, Kitten.” The Joker soothed down at you, probably thinking you were having a bad dream. You bit your lip to shut yourself up, but your limbs were so tense they were shaking, and your heart still beat erratically. “Open your eyes.” You heard him say above you. “Doll.” He growled impatiently when you didn’t obey.

You reluctantly did as he said, finding the Jokers face hovering above yours his arms either side of your face, holding your arms down.

“Now,” He rumbled, “are you going to be still?”

You shook your head, knowing he’d read the lie in any other answer.

You saw his jaw tense in annoyance. “And why not?”

You swallowed. “I- I can’t sleep with you.” You croaked out.

He raised his eyebrows at this. “Didn’t we already go through this, doll.” He snapped touchily, though his face seemed to soften when he saw the distress in your eyes.

He let out a sharp sigh. “I’m not gonna touch you, kitten.” He promised. You glanced at where he held you arms on either side of your head. “Anymore.” He amended with a twist of his lips, humour dancing in his eyes.

You almost had to bite back a smirk.

Could you trust him though?

The Joker seemed to trust you – his grip around your arms vanishing and his weight leaving your body. You pushed yourself upright, noticing the Joker now stood to your left, his back to you.

“I’d – um - still rather not sleep here, sir – uh – J.” You corrected, remembering your previous conversation.

“Why?” He asked, not moving. “Doll.” He growled again in warning when you took too long to respond.

“I - I don’t trust your men.” You confessed. “Th- they make passes at us girls normally - I don’t want to be caught in such a vulnerable state.”

“I’ll lock the door.” He growled darkly, though you could tell the tone wasn’t aimed at you this time.

“You think I don’t know that nearly every one of your men has the ability to pick a lock?” You muttered moodily.

The Joker finally turned to you then and you wondered if you’d pushed the line with your snarky remark. “It is my own room, doll.” He told you coolly. “They would not dare.” You stiffened at this sentence that seemed to hold so much power.

“I can’t kick you out of your own room.” You objected insistently.

“Stop, doll.” He growled tiredly. “You will stay here, and you will sleep.” He ordered. “I have other things I need to attend to, doll,” He growled, already walking toward the door. “The door will be locked. You had better be here when I return.”

You didn’t lie back down until you heard the click of the locking mechanism, then you saw no other choice then to close your eyes and try to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get this out yesterday, but the editing took longer than I thought and I keep getting distracted by things.
> 
> I’m not particularly pleased with this piece of writing really, I think just because I’ve been making it up as I go along, and I don’t actually know where I was or am going with it! Let’s just say its not my best piece of work….
> 
> The request was for fluffy/smutty Joker…. I’ve never written smut, but I am willing to give it a go in the next part if people want me too…. Please let me know if that’s something you guys would want!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it?  
> Let me know :)


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